


Once Again

by My_Coffee_Is_Hot_Chocolate



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, International Friendship, M/M, More to be added as I think of them, OCs - Freeform, POWs, WWIII, War, Who's mean to her characters?, love&war, me. - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 19:07:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12139116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Coffee_Is_Hot_Chocolate/pseuds/My_Coffee_Is_Hot_Chocolate
Summary: No one said fighting a war would be this hard.It always seemed easy, or at least it did to Matt and Chris Jones. The twin brothers, their three best friends, and a large chunk of the 20-somthin's in America all marched off to war with eagerness in their eyes and idealism in their hearts.Then they got to the trenches of World War Three, all idealism was shattered.In the midst of fighting, love and friendship blossom among Europeans and Westerners alike, North and South Americans. Old enemies find friendship, and those who lost their standing in the 20th century find it in the 21st. But the harsh realities of war are never more real, and golden stars glitter in 1 out of 3 house windows.





	1. July 17th, 2020

July 17th, 2020  
5:36 AM  
White House

 

The president signed. 1 year into his term and a war broke out. It was time the US joined the war, after Latin America and Canada joined the fight. He knew they would have to eventually join the war effort, but the Chinese had gone too far with the second bombing of Pearl Harbor. He hadn’t even released the news yet to the rest of the country. In the age of the Internet, that was very hard to keep a secret. The only thing keeping him from collapsing was that the news reporters needed time to get the story together and get some footage. 

The estimated amount of time was 8 minutes until they got the story together, and blew the nation’s pants off.

He started pacing his office, it was a nice office, he had occupied it for a bit now. He loved the rug quite a lot, so he avoided pacing on it as best he could. He could not see how to get out of this with the public’s approval. The President grumbled something, and sat back down.

It had been 6 minutes. The President said, “No other choice, right?” he said as he looked out at the Lawn of the White House. Congress had been on edge for days now, and had granted him permission to declare war if he thought it was necessary. It was now. Sighing, he turned on the TV and picked up the phone. “Alert the Media and Congress, we are officially at war.” he said briskly, then turned to watch the headline, and the report started. He sighed again, looking out at the Washington Monument, a white pillar in the storming sky. 

Life wouldn’t be the same for a long time. It was honestly better this time around, the President told himself. This time they weren't coming out of a depression, this time they had more able bodied young men and woman. They had better tech too. 

So did the enemy.


	2. June 17th, 2020

July 17th, 2020

6:00am

Pacific Ocean

Unknown to the president of the United States, a Chinese spy, Gaun Ju, was flying back from a successful mission. The bombing of Pearl Harbor, accompanied by three Japanese bombers. The red circle was followed with a amount of ferocity by two Korean planes (One North and One South), and two Indian. One Russian plane flew far above them and seemed to be ignoring its counterparts. 

Gaun rolled his eyes as someone spoke on the radio in rapid fire Japanese, and was met with fierce Korean. He picked up his radio, and spoke in calm Mandarin. The two arguing Koreans and Japanese (joined by a cackle Gaun assumed was from the Russian, who apart from this, had been silent) became quiet except for a discrete laugh from someone he thought was in ground control. 

Gaun saw the air traffic control tower ahead. The Russian plane fell in beside its fellows, and all of them began lowering themselves to the runway. Gaun was the first to touch down, then the three bombers, the Koreans, the Indians, and finally the Russian. Gaun watched the pilots, two of whom seemed to be the ones who had argued. The air between them was filled by the Russian and the smallest of them all, a Indian by the name of Carumo Bhandi, as his name was not classified. Almost everyone’s names were classified until the mission was finished, for unknown reasons. Gaun had no idea how to speak Hindi, or Russian. He did know the basics of Japanese and knew Korean quite well. He rolled his eyes again. 

Gaun looked at the Russian, a big man with blond hair and blue eyes. Gaun edged away from him as he began to cackle as the Korean and the Japanese started arguing. Gaun caught something about “My grandmother” and “Cheese from” and “Goat!” from the Korean and he didn’t even know what the Japanese guy said but the Korean looked taken aback and seemed ready to explode. At that point the Russian put his hand over the Korean’s chest, blocking him. In perfect Korean, (With an accent, but that was unavoidable) he said “Calm down, it was not zat bad. You called him far worse, over za radio.” he said, and Gaun felt a new respect rise for the man. 

Gaun smiled at the Russian, who gave him a funny look and said, in halting Mandarin, “Why you smile?”  
“Because,” Gaun said in Korean, so the man would understand, “you helped keep the squadron from tearing themselves apart. So, thanks.”

“Oh, okay.” the man said, confused. Gaun looked at the two Indians who were chatting up the second Korean and the other two Japanese. “Do you know any Hindi? I never learned.” It was the Korean’s turn to talk this time. “Those two goofs are telling Indian jokes, I don’t find them  
funny, but Chun seems to think them ridiculous.” The Korean looked disgusted. He seemed North Korean. Gaun watched them, then asked, to both the Russian and the Korean, “What are your names? I only know your code names. Mine is-” Gaun was cut off by the Korean. “Ju, Gaun, I know. I am Jung Ho, Sam.” Then came the Russian’s voice. “Fomichyov Nikifor Valeryevich, for my full name. Most just call me Fomich.”

“Okay…” Gaun said in Korean so they would both understand. “Well, it is nice to meet you both, a pleasure to work with you.” he said with a smile. The russian returned the smile before trudging off muttering something in Russian. Gaun revised to make a mental note, ‘Find a book on the russian language.’ as he went to the headquarters for the mission debriefing with the other heads. 

Gaun had been in charge of an experimental mixed group, the others had been divided by nationality. Gaun wanted to make a point of complimenting Fomichyov. He felt that the Russian deserved it. Gaun watched all of the other squad leaders file in next to him. Then the debriefing started. Gaun found that his squad had been quite good, at least as good as the others. Gaun got his compliment in with the Russian commander, who spoke Mandarin. The man looked pleased, and promised to tell Fomichyov.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: I wrote this years ago.


	3. July 18th, 2020

July 18th, 2020  
9:08am  
Portland, Maine

Mat Jones slammed down his glass of orange juice. “You mean, Chris, is going into a war zone?” he said, surprise and anger emanating in his voice. His twin brother got to go off to war, and he didn’t? Mat was mad, but also scared for the fate of his best friend. His father sighed, looking out at the blue sky. “Your great grandfather told me about how the second World War was almost just like the first, which his father had fought in. Now, not three generations have passed and there is another major war.” Then his mother, a dark blond with blue eyes who was wicked smart and on her way to her office, piped up. “This one is far worse, hardly any country isn’t fighting.” His father gave her a joking look of anger.   
“You are too smart for your own good sometimes.” ‘  
His mother responded with a amused smile and disappeared. 

Matt trudged off to the couch and flopped on it. He looked out the window at the town, which was full of tourists at this time of year, and it drove him nuts. He wished that summer would be over and the tourists would leave. Dad sat down next to him. “Some of those people down there, the ones with the rags?” Matt looked down and noticed among the shorts and hats was a family dressed in rags and carrying a little girl, “Those people are refugees from Europe, most likely Russians who didn’t support China. This is what people are going through over there, and what happens to good people.” Matt looked at his dad, and sighed.  
“I know Dad, I understand why Chris wanted to go. But he didn’t tell me, and that’s what I’m mad about.”  
“That makes sense.”

Dad walked back to the kitchen, leaving Matt to look out the window, and jumped when his little sister tapped him on the shoulder. “Matt? The Russinovichs are here.” He looked behind him to see his little sister, Emily, a blond, and his little brother Tim, blond as well. Most of the Jones where blond except Matt, Chris and dad. They had black hair. “You two have a habit of surprising me with stuff for Mom and Dad.” Matt said, getting up. He went to the door to find a large family of 6 people, two blond, the rest brown haired. The Ruslanovichs where a family from Russia. Mr. and Mrs. Ruslanovich where born in Russia, their children had been born in Portland. Matt and the oldest, Sedov, where best friends and got into all kinds of mischief with Chris, Sedov’s twin Yetsiv, and Benny Fox. They were despised by the local high school teachers for the coffee stunt last year. 

Sedov had three siblings, all of whom were friends with the respective Joneses and Foxes (A Irish family who lived down the block). They youngest, Vityev, was friends with Tim, and Benny’s little sister Maxina/Max -Max hated her name- and hung with the latest set of Jones-Ruslanovich-Fox. They were all in 7th grade, with Emily, Konev, and Benny’s little brother Justin in 9th. Chris, Matt, Sedov, Benny, and Yetsiv had graduated last June. This was an infamous group of the cool kids in each grade. Matt smiled, remembering some stunts the original five had pulled.   
Matt opened the door wider to let them in. Sedov, Yetsiv, Konev, Vityev, and Mr. And Mrs. Ruslanovich entered. Sedov and Yetsiv were closely followed in by Benny and the four smiled evilly. Then Sedov asked, “Where is Chris? We need him for that glue cement block.”   
That put a damper on Matt’s mood. “Chris enlisted in the Army, Dad says that he is trying to find a way to save people.”  
Yetsiv, who had been quite, looked at his shoes. “Sedov and I are enlisting too. We want to save our people and our two countries.”   
At this Benny spoke too. “So am I.”   
Matt smiled, and he said,“I plan on too, why don’t we all go together to the enlistment office? Then we are more likely to get assigned to the same unit.”   
Sedov, Yetsiv, and Benny all smiled, and the four marched into the living room where the parents, and the little siblings had sat down to talk and watch TV respectively. They shared a glance, and Matt said, “Mom, Dad, I want to enlist in the Army with Chris.” 

It was quickly followed by Sedov and Yetsiv in Russian. All four parents looked resigned, the little siblings looked at their older brothers in awe. Benny rushed out the door to his parents, and Matt’s mother said, reluctantly, “Fine, just keep an eye on Chris and each other.”   
Sedov and Yetsiv’s parents responded in kind, and the twins nodded. They went up to Matt and Chris’s room, and Matt packed his stuff and a memento. A picture of all five friends, eyes sparkling and smiling wide. Matt tucked the picture in his pocket and went out the door with Yesiv and Sedov.

Before Matt could make it all the way out the door, his mother pulled him into a hug.   
“Come back to me, you hear?”  
Matt nodded and hugged her back. “I will Mom, you won’t have to hang a gold star for me or Chris. If I have my way, no gold stars will hang anywhere for anyone I know.”

It turned out the twins had been prepared and they ran into Benny on the street. He did not look happy. “My parents said no, not until I’m older.” Benny seemed distressed.   
“It’s okay, we need someone here to keep the pranks going!” Sodov said brightly. Matt and Yetsiv nodded eagerly. They all said there temporary goodbyes and the three made their way among the tourists. “First lesson in Tourist Camouflage, wear shorts and flip flops.” Matt said, a playful gleam in his brown eyes . Sedov smiled and Yetsiv tripped because he had been looking at Matt like he was nuts.

They finally found their way to the recruitment building, and all three entered. It was packed, and the three boys looked around and jumped. Some were just kids, not even sixteen. Sodov and Yetsiv were easily the biggest in the room, standing 6’5 each as identical twins. (Chris and Matt had a slight height difference, but otherwise looked alike)

After a hour, it was Matt’s turn. The guy looked Matt over and put him through tests. Matt passed each one, being a highschool graduate and a star football player. Sedov had some trouble with the staff because he was Russian, but he had been born in the United States and so had Yetsiv. They all, after a hour, with a bunch of people behind them, were accepted. The three friends shared a high five and a smile. 

They were off to war.


	4. August 26th, 2020

August 26th, 2020

6:00am

University of Connecticut 

The campus had been turned into a training camp. Matt had considered coming to UCONN when he was looking at collages. He had put off college for a year though and wasn’t caring vary much until he got there. Then he wished he had decided on a collage earlier. UCONN was huge. He didn’t get to enjoy the size though, it had been turned into a boot camp as the Army struggled to swell it’s ranks. They were facing a much bigger enemy, and they were short on supplies for so many men and women who had enlisted.

Matt had a hard time, and he was one of the better ones. Sedov and Yetsiv where the two best recruits, with Matt in close pursuit. On the first day Matt had asked about his brother, and they said that Chris was the least of his worries and that he should get back to doing what he was supposed to be doing. 

Matt hadn't asked again. 

Matt woke with a start as the bugle sounded, and rolled out of bed and put on his uniform. He lined up next to Sedov and Yetsiv. Then they stood at attention. The commanding officer didn’t look impressed with the three, but passed by. Matt let out a soft sigh, he didn’t want to be reprimanded over an untucked shirt again. 

Then the officer’s voice rang out. “Next week, you will be shipped out. You will take a ship to Great Britain, and then take the Chunnel to France. At both stops you will pick up additional troops who will be assigned to your unit. I expect the utmost respect, from every. Single. One. Of. You.” He said that last part in a snarling way, like he was killing each word after it left his mouth. 

Matt stood at attention for a full hour as the speech went on and on. It was like History Class, with Mr. Feenly. All over again. He saw a few of the fresh-out-of-highschool kids drift off. He was glad when they were dismissed to breakfast, it meant he got to meet up with a new friend of his. A mutt who was known by the recruits as Justin. Justin looked like a Border Collie crossed with a Rough Collie crossed with who knows what. He was huge, so whatever he was, his parents must have been big dogs. 

Matt, Sedov and Yetsiv had first met Justin on their fourth day. He had been scavenging among the garbage cans near the mess hall. He had quickly stolen many hearts and became the unofficial mascot. Yetsiv knew how to train dogs (no one knew how he had learned this) and had taught Justin basic Obedience and a old trick, how to saulute.

Today the grub (Nicknamed dog food by some after Justin started stealing it off plates when no one wanted to touch it) was a mix of sausage, lettuce, and something Matt didn’t even know. He ate some, but slid it back. “This stuff is worse than normal. I didn’t think that they could ruin sausage but Hefir did.” Hefir was the nickname of the camp cook, because he was a hothead and would put Sedov in his pot if he could get his hands on him. 

Anyways, Justin wolfed it down with pleasure and made his rounds. His obedience training kept him from getting too chunky, but he was getting fat. He had been starving a few weeks ago so this was good. He deserved to be fat. Then the training began for human and and dog. 

Matt was getting the hang of pushups, and could pump them out like a pro. Sedov had the ease of someone who had been doing pushups for years. Yetsiv however had more trouble, but the smallest of them was by all accounts a whimp. Matt normally ignored him because all he did was gripe and moan and complain. Even Justin didn’t like him.

The rest of the warmups passed, and then it was battle training. It had started to rain, but old stories about French Mud kept them going. Matt had heard of how it had interfered in WWI, and he was prepared. He also figured he would be facing shivering warmfooters when they got to Great Britain and France. Matt, Sedov, and Yetsiv where New Englanders. Assigned to the 26th, 102ed Infantry, which had kept the old name from the past few wars, the Yankee Division. 

Undisputed Sedov Ruslanovich punched harder, did more pushups, and was a good leader for the Yankee Division. The big Russian was an unexpected leader, but he seemed determined to save those who opposed Asia. His two best friends were close behind, Yetsiv Ruslanovich and Matt Jones. This did not go unnoticed by the officers that the unit had a leader. They did not know, however, about the dog that they had all become so fond of. 

Matt, Sedov, and Yetsiv planned to show Justin to the officers and have him salute to them. With the dog on his leash, they stood at attention as a officer passed by. The fact that a big, fluffy dog with a questionable ancestry was being held by a makeshift leash by one of his men did not go unnoticed. The three saluted, and Justin sat back on his hind legs, stood up on two paws, and raised one paw to his very much Collie face. This seemed to catch the officer of guard. It was not every day a dog almost as tall as you slauted. After a moment, he said, “At ease.” Justin went back on all fours but still stood stiff and with his rather fluffy chest puffed out. The officer seemed resigned. “As long as he does not disrupt anyone…” The three boys smiled and led the dog away, now a mascot for the YD.


	5. September 9-15th, 2020

September 2ed-15th, 2020

12:54

Mid-Atlantic

New Englanders were well accustomed to the sea. Their home was famous for it’s seafood and on-the-water charm. So traveling by boat to England was second nature. Flying, however, was deemed too dangerous. The air was a dangerous place at the moment, and after the Chinese had taken the Panama Canal, they had a short route into the Atlantic all to themselves. That meant that the Allies were trapped with no way across to the Pacific. Thankfully, someone had had the bright idea to build shipyards on the west coast at some point, so the west was defended from the sea at least.

Still, last anyone had heard (And that was every time someone checked a news site on a tablet or smartphone, so every few minutes), things were not going well in the war. Covered trenches still marked borders, tanks rolling right over them and bombs bouncing most of the time. 

It later transpired that the had a New Yorker in their midst, a so-called Alexander Hamilton. They all gave him the cold shoulder, as he was an outsider from the New Englanders and if anyone spoke to him, they would say “Yankee” or “New Yorker”. He would launch into a full on rant at them and as most of them were larger, he ended up with a few bruises by the end of the 4th day. Sedov gave him a black eye when the shortie tried to talk him to death, by saying that he was not a New Yorker by birth. Sedov had said, “So you’re from where? California? Ohio? Oh, I know, you are going to say your from Boston to save your own skin.” Then the kid had started throwing punches. Sedov had punched him back. If anything, the New Yorker was earning some respect as a fighter if nothing else. 

Matt personally had yet to talk to the guy. So he made his way over and brought Justin. “Hello,” he said, eyeing the New Yorker’s ponytail. He jumped, whirling around. “Who are you?” Matt rolled his eyes, as the guy seemed to have a british accent. That was going from odd to downright freaky. “Calm down, I’m not going to punch you. I just want to know three things. Who are you really, what’s with the ponytail, and why do you have a British accent if you're from New York?” Matt asked, his brown eyes hard.  
“My name is Alexander Hamilton. I haven’t had my hair cut yet, I plan on it. And I’m an immigrant.” Alexander said. Matt was still skeptical, but that may explain the hair. “So, what? Are you related to Alexander Hamilton?” Matt asked, patting Justin on the head. That drew Alexander’s attention to the dog, but he answered, “I was born in Amish country, but yha, I’m related to him. I have a son who’s about 10.” Matt jumped. Alaxander didn’t seem much older than 30. Alexander noticed and said, “I was only 20 when he was born.”  
That smoothed Matt’s feathers, in a manner of speaking. The conversation went on from there. Justin lay down with his head under the rail, incase he threw up. Yetsiv stood a little ways down the rail, listening and interjecting sometimes but he was throwing up a lot. Matt rolled his eyes, thinking of the poor guy that had to scrape the sides of the ship. Yetsiv finally had run out of things in his stomach. So now he could talk with them, and he and Alexander struck up a friendship besides him being the smallest person on the ship. He was fascinated by the history of modern warfare. They even went down to the hold to see the tanks.  
Alexander wondered how they had gotten from cannons pulled by horses to this. Matt had seen it on a TV show once and promised to show him once they had WiFi. Alexander showed them a picture of his son, in a hospital bed. A pretty woman was sitting next to him, and so were about 7 other people. “My family, eight kids. Eliza made me promise that we would not try to have any more.” Alexander seemed proud, and Yetsiv commented that it reminded him of his last family reunion. “My family is huge, I have four siblings, and 10 cousins of my Mom’s side alone…  
It was enjoyable trip all around. Sedov finally seemed like he could be in the same room with Alexander without punching him (Alexander was thrilled) and Yetsiv had finally managed to get over his seasickness long enough to get his sailor’s legs. It was something Yetsiv needed badly to master soon. Matt himself needed to get to the railing a few times, and he had been on botes most of his life.


	6. September 18th, 2020

September 18th

1:34am

London, England, UK

 

Matt smiled, as the Americans were getting some time off before taking Chunnel to France. He was hanging with Sedov and Alexander, Yetsiv having decided to stay at the hotel. None of them had ever been to London, so they were going wandering until midnight. Alexander was already exhausted and his feet hurt, Sedov was getting close, and Matt was just barely. They had encountered a vary fierce lady on the street who had given them a disappointed lecture, thinking they were drunk. 

They had ignored her, and now had to head back as Alex was out cold from exhaustion, and Sedov started rambling tiredly. Matt, as the only one who wasn't too tired to walk strait, was dragging his friends back when he encountered a bunch of soldiers. Tommies. Matt just kept dragging Alex and Sedov as they starred. 

When they finally got back, Yetsiv was sound asleep with Justin at his feet. Sedov flopped in the nearest unoccupied bed, and Matt dragged Alex into another before flopping on his own. They were all in for a massive headaches when they woke up, as was most of the Yankee Division. Although they all wished they where is Ireland for the pubs, London had not disappointed. Everyone, it seemed, had gone exploring and were all coming back right then. 

The next morning, Matt woke up with a crazy headache. He groaned and sat up, looking over to see that half the guys were still asleep. The other half were already down at breakfast. The Red Sox had been shoved into five rooms, so there where sleeping bags and cots everywhere. Alex was still sacked out, snoring. Sedov, somehow, was awake because both of the largest people in the division where missing.

Matt maneuvered himself to the door without waking anyone up, only to be greeted with the overflow. He was quiet as he made his way to the elevator, and encountered that it was empty. Most likely everyone was eating. Matt brought out his phone, and texted Sedov. 

Matt/Cris: Dude where you go?

SedovorYetsiv: I'm eating, did you just wake up?

Matt/Cris: Yha, Alex is still out.

SedovorYetsiv: Not surprising, I had a hard time getting up. Yetsiv had to wake me up.

Matt/Cris: See you in a sec, have to open YouTube for Alex when he gets down.

 

SedovorYetsiv: This is going to be fun....

 

(A few hours later....)

Alex watched in awe, as the video came to a close. "Those tanks where huge!"

"Good thing the Mice didn't work." Matt said, and Sedov snorted. 

"What's so funny?" A British accented voice said. Alex, Sedov, Matt, and Yetsiv all whipped around. Alex instinctively grabbed for a gun, his brown eyes fixed on the tall, brown-haired-green-eyed boy in front of them. Matt’s cheeks heated. Sedov grabbed Alex's collar as he started trying to punch him. The boy seemed amused, and said, "Well, aren't you bunch a treat, just a treat. Having a nice holiday? Yanks." He spat the last part. Alexander wrenched himself out of Sedov's grip.

"Alexander!" Matt yelled, too late. Alex was already trying to punch the boy. He was held back, however. The boy was holding Alex back with one hand as Alex tried to punch him. Alex had lost most of his British accent by now, but he was still biased against England for unknown reasons. The boy laughed, "Come on, try it shorty." That set Sedov off. Soon both Matt and Yetsiv were holding their 245 pound friend back. Barely. That shut the boy up. 

Alex finally stopped trying to punch the boy, and helped keep Sedov back. After five minutes, Sedov finely stopped. Matt and Yetsiv both flopped into their chairs. Sedov glared at him as he sat down with them, as far as he could from Sedov. Alex had his picture out, and got out a pen and paper. He started writing, and soon he had a letter to his wife all written up. Matt also got out a pencil and paper, only it was a charcoal pencil. He started drawing the scene around them. He smiled, after about half-an-hour. He showed the table, and received praise for his skills. He put a title below, 'Relaxing'. He smiled and folded it up. Today they were shipping out.


	7. September 21st, 2020

September 21st, 2020

11:08

Somewhere along the Chunnle

Matt sighed, of all the people to be trapped in a car with, he was trapped with Alex and Tommy, the English boy who Sedov had punched. He was at his wits end with the two of them, and he couldn't wait to get out of the claustrophobic car and into France. He rolled his eyes and went to grab Alex, who had been cowering in his seat,

Apparently Alex could deal with a car. He could not deal with a train. Matt sat down next to him, sitting between him and Tommy, who seemed like he was enjoying torturing Alex. Thankfully Sedov and Yetsiv where in another car. Sedov had found a protectiveness over Alex, maybe because Alex had become a honorary Ruslanovich for now. 

Matt rolled his eyes as Alex looked out the window, and watched the tunnel rush by. He looked like a little kid on his first subway ride. Matt brought out his tablet, and started reading a article. It was going to be at least 20 minutes to go. Tommy seemed to be having fun, and taking in his funny accent. Finely, Matt sighed and glared at Tommy for two minutes straight. 

Tommy, Matt and Alex didn't talk much after that. Until Matt saw a article saying the Chinese were advancing over lines set for two years. He tugged Tommy's sleeve, and Tommy looked at him like he was nuts. Then he saw what he was reading. He read it, and his face turned white. "Alex!" he whispered, and Alex looked at him as Tommy and Matt pointed at his tablet. Alex looked down and read the article. He just shrugged, but he seemed tense. He started muttering to himself, something about how the Enemy always got the upper hand at first. 

Ten minutes later they pulled into the station, Alex rushed off as fast as he could. Being the shortest one there, that was not really fast. Matt and Tommy followed him, but spotted Sedov and Yetsiv. Tommy hung back, avoiding Sedov's gaze. Yetsiv, however, noticed him. "Hey! Tommy! Come over, why so anti-social?" Matt saw Tommy freeze, but walked over. He saw Tommy had put earbuds in, and wondered what he was listing to. 

Everyone filed out of the station, and into France.


	8. Chapter 8

Unknown

 

8:07am

P.O.W Camp

 

Yetsiv groaned, sitting up. His head was pounding. With what? Hangover? He raised his hand to his head, feeling bandages. The room around him looked like a hospital. He looked down, his chest was covered in bandages. What the heck had happened? A voice in Russian spoke. "Ah... You're awake." Yetsiv, fluent in Russian, understood without hesitation. He looked over, his blue eyes finding a tall man. "So, you have not been waiting long I trust?" Yetsiv responded, his accent different from the man's. Yetsiv had picked up the more eastern accent from his parents, who were from eastern Russia. The man had a more northern one, and looked surprised, but covered it quickly. He responded, eyes less cold. He had been expecting a ignorant American, not a Eastern Russian American.

Yetsiv and the man had a pleasant enough exchange. He had not been expecting Yetsiv, a large blond, to know Russian. Much less have an accent other than English. He was kind enough to tell Yetsiv what had happened.

Yetsiv had been in a battle. The battle of Mt. Blanc in fact. The Eastern Armies had lost after a daring push along the mountains. The lines, as they stood, where where the had been two years ago with advances every day. The war was going great for the east with strong support, the west was having a hard time however.

Yetsiv had been caught in a bomb blast, saving Sedov. Sedov, Tommy, a wounded Alex, and a disoriented Matt had escaped. Yetsiv had been captured. He was one of 100 who had been taken prisoner in the RS. Yetsiv was the only one fluent in Russian, but he was also the one that they trusted.

Yetsiv was transferred to the main P.O.W. camp after a few hours. His hands were cuffed, and feet shackled. When they got into the camp, Yetsiv looked around. His blue eyes and blond hair no longer out of place, many men and woman here where blond. He was taken to the barracks, unshackled, and left there. Bored, Yetsiv went outside. Instantly he saw some RS guys and wandered over. The greeted him happily. They shared stories, and pondered many things. After a few hours they dispersed to find other American soldiers. Yetsiv quickly found a bunch of French men, but he knew a bit of French from Matt. He wandered over and asked them what they knew. They said (He thought) That this was somewhere in the far-mid-west of Russia. Close enough to move prisoners here quickly, but far enough away to prevent a easy rescue. 

Yetsiv noticed someone in the Lights Out rush. Yetsiv made his way over. Grabbing the man's sleeve, he found no arm. The man looked back, and Yetsiv let go. It was Chris! Chris seemed to recognize him as well. "Yetsiv?"  
"Chris?"  
"How are you here? Are Matt and Sedov here?"  
"No, they got away, how did you end up here?"  
"I was left for dead, what happened to you? If you're here, Sedov can't be far behind."  
"He is with Matt, and our friends Tommy and Alex."  
"So, I know you. You're already plotting an escape."   
“Sorry to disappoint, but no. Not yet.”  
At the end of the day, all anyone had to show for it was a few new playing cards, a cigarette or two, and dashed hopes. Just as Chris had said, Yetsiv had a plan though..

 

 

 

 

Two weeks later, 

 

10:12 pm

Unspecified

 

No one was quite sure what they were going to do once they got outside, other than run with whatever guns they could get their hands on. That was the one plan, grab some guns and get the heck out of here with as many men as possible. Head back to the front. It was the most realistic idea any of them had. 

Yetsiv thought of a movie he had seen when he was little. Called Chicken Run. It reminded him of this, crazily. He waited until the single guard went by, and he knocked the guy's lights out. Then took his gun. He jerked his head forwards, and a few others came out. They encountered a few more sleepy guards, and stole their guns as well. 

This was way too easy. Yetsiv poked his head out, gun at the ready. Then he scaled the wall, having picked out a path between two searchlights. It was a blind spot, and easy pickings. Soon, two Red Sox, two Frenchman, a German, Chris and Yetsiv were free. Yetsiv started running, the others following him. They were out, but they still had miles to go. They had to get to the Ural Mountains, then they were free. Even then, the chance of re-capture was immense. Yetsiv needed to find his brother. Just as Chris did, if not more.


	9. Chapter 9

October 23ed

10:23am

Berlin, Germany

 

Matt yawned, sitting up. He regretted it instantly as his head throbbed and he fell back. He still had that stupid concussion. He got huge headaches just putting a sentence together or sitting up. 

He looked around, seeing Sedov, Alex, Tommy, and the latest members, a bunch of Frenchies. A few were girls, (None were in this room) but Matt was sure that they would kick his butt in hand to hand combat. He did know Sedov have a crush on one, a girl with black hair and brown eyes. She looked like she belonged in a warzone, powerful and deadly. Matt had been trying to get them together, but Sedov refused until he and Tommy got together.

Matt had immediately told him to be quiet, but Sedov had just laughed. 

Matt shook Sedov awake, and he bolted up, blue eyes wide. "Same dream?" Matt asked, sitting down next to his friend. Sedov looked at his hands. "I can't get him out of my head. He saved me, but we left him?" Sedov was still broken up about not saving Yetsiv before they had abandoned the trench. Yetsiv was a prisoner of the Eastern Armies, along with almost 100 other men and woman in the YD. 

Matt dragged Sedov down to the elevator, after grabbing Tommy, to get some breakfast and not leave Sedov alone. Matt was getting worried about Chris too, but he was fine. He was always fine... Matt stopped his train of thought, and hit the 'L' button on the elevator. At least in Germany they had the same alphabet. 

Sedov poked his food. Matt was fed up with waiting, he wanted to get back in the fight. The only issue, almost the entire division was in Medical. Alex came in, his foot in a boot and his arm wrapped in a bandage. He sat himself next to Sedov, and Tommy sat next to Matt, who was the safest person to sit next to at the moment. Normally Yetsiv was the one everyone wanted to sit next to. Then the girl Matt had a crush on sat with them. Granted, he was next to the person he had a huge crush on, ever since the trench.

She looked at Matt with her brown eyes and Matt felt himself blush a little. Not quite as much as when his crush looked at him with his two shades of green eyes.

Alex grumbled that he couldn't write to his wife, because surely she was worried. Sedov offered to write it, and Alex said he could. The girl, Matt and Tommy all ate quietly. Matt started drawing the table, and labeled it 'One Missing'. Matt sighed and put the pencil and paper away. 

"So, you all seem sad." The French woman said. Breaking the silence after Alex finished his letter. Sedov sighed. "Usually there is a lot more laughing, and fun. But the guy that drove that on got captured. For all we know, he's dead." His voice cracked, and he got up and left. The girl looked confused, but seemed to understand ever so slightly. Still, she didn't fully understand. "Why is he so upset?" she asked Alex. 

"The guy who went missing was his twin brother. And our best friend." Matt said, though even thinking that long of a sentence hurt his bruised brain. But a bruised and a burned arm where better than dead.

A text popped up on Sedov's phone, which he had left on the table. The phone number was not familiar.

Matt stared at the phone, and got up to get Sedov. Leaving the others to stare at the phone, reading the message:

'Safe, coming with Chris, a German, and three French.

~Yetsiv'

Matt ran, tripping over his own feet to catch up to Sedov. 

“Dude!”

“What Matt.”

“We just got a text from Yetsiv! He’s escaped with Chris!”

Sedov was looking at Matt is dumbfounded silence. Then he crushed Matt in a hug, and he could have sworn that his big, burly friend was crying into his shoulder. Matt figured that he was imagining it, then felt a wet spot on his shoulder. The toughest guy he knew was crying. 

Matt hugged his friend back. Now it was hitting him that his own brother was also coming back. He started crying too, happy. He would see his brother again!


	10. October 31st, 2020

October 31st, Halloween, 2020

3:07 pm

Near St. Petersburg 

 

Yetsiv growled. Oto, a French-German, glanced over, but knew better then to get in Yetsiv's way when he was frustrated. Yetsiv started pacing, they were miles behind enemy lines, and they couldn't even see the Mountains! They had stopped in a small thicket, with one of the French down with a sprained ankle, and moral was down. They needed something, but no one was in the mood.

A few days ago they had stolen a cell phone in a village. It had been risky, but they kept the phone. It was just turned off with the battery taken out most of the time. He lay against the tree next to Chris. Chris had had the hardest time, with a missing arm and all. It was almost every day he saw Chris looking at a picture of his girlfriend, Marian. Some days Yetsiv wondered if that picture was what was keeping him going. 

Yetsiv looked up, listing. Chris and Oto perked up too. They had heard something. A voice, in Russian. Taking out a gun, he aimed at where the voice came from. The voices faded, however, and they relaxed. 

After deciding that it would be the best course of action to get going now, they started moving out. Cris took up the rear, his one hand resting on a pistol that he seemed very keen on keeping. Frankly, Yetsiv couldn't blame him. As they walked, the only uninjured Croissant(As Yetsiv had begun calling the French, especially Parisians like this guy) carried his comrade with the help of Oto. Yetsiv had offered to take one of them but they had refused. The two Americans followed behind, and Chris brought up the rear. 

A twig snapped, gun safeties clicked off, breathing got heavier. Anticipation was in the air as everyone froze. Then a sound of gunfire broke the silence, and everyone started to run. Everyone but Chris.

 

 

 

 

A blazing pain ran across his side. A pain he had felt before. Chris fell, as his friends ran. He could not blame them, he was dead weight anyway. He watched his friends run, as he felt his vision fading. In a sudden blaze of panic, he fought to stay awake. He heard footsteps, saw boots, and stopped moving. He heard his heart in his ears, his breathing was heavy and fast. 

After the footsteps had faded, Chris sighed, and looked at his wound. He felt his gag reflex trigger at the wound, but it wasn't bad. Not as bad as his arm had been. That had been bad. He dragged himself into cover, what looked like an empty clearing. It was not empty, there was a old house, but it was cover. Cover was cover. Chris tried to hide himself from the entrances, and had his pistol drawn. 

When he heard Russian voices, he froze, brown eyes wide and pistol drawn. Tense, he waited. When he saw someone peek inside, his fear rose. His hand was shaky, and he dropped it, pistol still gripped in his hand stubbornly. The face became faces, six of them, and Chris saw it was a bunch of kids. Chris gave them a halfhearted smile, and tried to remember all the Russian knew. It was a hopeless pursuit. The kids came into full view, in the warmer clothes required by fall. They spoke in Russian, most likely talking to each other. Chris wondered what they were talking about. 

One of them tried to talk into English, and Chris cocked his head. He hadn't understood one word of it. They all giggled a little at their friend's attempt, and Chris tried for a smile. Of all the times to not speak Russian, this was not it. It was a horrible time to not know Russian. Chris really needed to learn some Russian. 

The kids were all talking, Chris was worried they were considering ratting him out. His brown eyes widened as one ran off, and he pulled himself further upright. 

A kid made her way over to him nervously. She was the tallest, so he he assumed her the oldest. Chris watched her wearily, wondering what her plan was. She said something in Russian, and Chris gave her a puzzled look. She backed up, glaring at the one who had tried speaking English. They exchanged rapidfire words in Russian, leaving Chris bewildered. What was going on? 

The one who had tried talking in English tried again. Chris thought he heard “Are you well?” through the heavy accent. Chris shrugged, the universal sign for ‘I don’t know’. He put his pistol on the ground next to him, unsure of what else to do. One of the smaller ones came a little closer, and Chris watched him with weary brown eyes. 

The young boy stopped several feet from Chris, closer than the girl by about a foot. They locked eyes, and Cris felt a little unnerved by his very bright blue eyes. He could have been a sibling of Sedov and Yetsiv. Same blue eyes and blond hair. Still, Chris met his gaze unflinchingly. Then the kid spoke, still in Russian. His friends rolled their eyes and one of them spoke in sharp Russian. The boy responded disappointedly, leaving an even more puzzled Chris. 

The look on his face must have been priceless, because three out of the five of them started cracking up. The oldest boy, who had brown hair and startling golden eyes, kept glancing at him and the youngest girl. The youngest was clearly his sister with the same brown hair and gold eyes. The only difference was that her hair had lighter streaks in it, like a blonde brownie.   
Quite frankly Chris was freaked out. He was going to end up back is a prison camp, he knew it! These kids would get thrown in with him, too. If they ended up helping him.


	11. October 31st, 2020

October 31st, Halloween

5:28 pm

Near St. Petersburg 

 

As the day grew later and later, the kids turned out to be very helpful. The oldest girl was pretty good with First Aid and knew her way around a medical kit. She patched him up pretty well, and so far none of them seemed to have noticed that he had one arm. Yet. 

The kids were talking about something, Chris was unsure of what. The way they kept glancing at him was creepy. 

“Look,” he said, “If I’m interrupting Halloween plans, just leave me here. I’ll be fine. Have some fun.”

From the looks they gave him, his words made as much sense as theirs to him. He sighed, this language gap was such a annoying challenge. Russian was hard! He had zero clue how Sedov and Yetsiv did it, knowing both languages. Russian and English seemed so different. 

While Chris was thinking, a decision seemed to have been reached. The one with the heavy accent tried telling him what they were doing.

“We take you home, saver there.” 

Chris got to his feet, holding his side. He smiled at them, saying, “Lead the way.”

As they walked, Chris noted that the sixth kid was still not with them. He wondered where he was, but they didn’t seem to be planning to rat him out. The siblings were leading the way, talking in hurried sentences. 

When they reached a house, Chris got paranoid. His eyes were constantly flicking about. He hated being out in the open, he liked cover. Somewhere he could hide from death for a little while. 

As they made their way quickly across the road, and into the house as quickly as possible. As soon as the door opened, a young boy sitting at the table jumped. It was the boy who had run off from earlier. He stood stock still, and Chris glanced around. No one else was in the kitchen. 

The oldest boy spoke to the younger, who was evidently his brother. They had the same hair, but the younger boy’s eyes were different. They were deep brown. 

The girl helped Chris to a seat, and he thanked her. She seemed to understand something, because she smiled. Chris smiled back, then looked towards the door at a noise. Chris’s eyes narrowed, and he tensed. 

A woman came into view, along with a familiar face. 

“Yetsiv!”

“Chris!”

Chris tried to get up to hug his friend, but his side throbbed. Yetsiv ended up helping Chris sit back down. Still, the two friends hugged. 

Yetsiv explained who they were in Russian, leaving Chris wondering what he was saying. The woman, who Chris guessed was the three kid’s mother, looked worried. Then she told Yetsiv something in Russian. Yetsiv nodded bravely, and the three kids looked sullen. Yetsiv turned to Chris and explained what was going on. They were taking the three kids with them to the lines. They were brave and knew the land, but they were half Polish. That threatened their lives if they stayed with the Chinese wanting ‘pure blood’. Chris noted that one of the higher-ups must have read a western history book and thought it was a guidebook or something, because it sounded familiar to what Chris knew of the Nazis. 

This time Chris stood, and he smiled at the kids. The smallest one, the little boy, looked at his mother with tears in his eyes. She held him, crying too. Then she sent all three upstairs to gather their things. The other three kids looked confused, but they soon caught on. They looked at Yetsiv and Chris and spoke in Russian. Yetsiv looked between the three, worried. He said something, and all the kids looked rebellious. The girl who had helped Chris shot something at Yetsiv that left him taken aback. She spoke again, with a look of finality on her face. Chris had to admire her courage.

The three kids came back down with backpacks full of things. They were all crying softly save the oldest, who was very stoic. His face was hard as stone. 

As they all left, six kids and two POWs (One without a arm) made their way off. Cris wondered about his own mother, if she thought he was dead. Well, Chris mused, the one she remembered was, in a way.

Yetsiv looked at him helplessly. Both friends met Otto on the way to the woods. He was the only one who had stayed to go back for Chris with Yetsiv. The others had gone on, and would wait for them later on. For now, they had to get home. The faces of his friends and twin brother would be so welcome after so long. Even boring old Portland. 

Chris just wanted to be home.


End file.
